“Mrs. Grogan,” I said to my 9^th grade Creative Writing teacher, “53 years from now we’re going to have lunch together.”

“Sounds great,” she replied.

No, that conversation never took place.  But what if it had?

No reason to wonder because the other day I did have lunch with Mrs. Grogan, the first time I’ve seen her since June 1973.

More accurately, we reunited a week earlier when she invited me to be interviewed by students for the Luther Burbank Middle School oral history project facilitated by 8^th grade history teacher Heidi VanKooten whose classroom was the former wood shop where I sat many moons ago.

Much of Luther has remained the same.  Besides changing from a junior high (grades 7-9) to a middle school (grades 6-8) back in the early 1990’s, the main difference is that the school has air conditioning whereas my generation endured triple-digit scorchers with only industrial-size fans blowing hot air all around us; it’s amazing any learning transpired.

As I walked in the room, there she stood:  Mrs. Grogan, looking remarkably the same as she did so long ago.  For the record, her first name is Carolyn, but she’ll always be Mrs. Grogan to me.  Just as I wouldn’t call my parents or doctors by their first name, I have the same reverence for my teachers. 

I remember Mrs. Grogan as an intense teacher.  She was taller than other female instructors and her eyes rarely blinked to further underscore her laser-beam focus whenever she looked at you.  Her voice was strong leaving no doubt that she was in charge, a quality I admire in teachers.

After giving her a hug, I was escorted by Ms. VanKooten to the young students who would interview me.  The pair turned on a recorder and started going through a full page of single-spaced questions. 

Some of the questions—what cafeteria food I ate, who were the popular people, what were the sayings of that time—reminded me of how much of an outsider I was for I never ate at the school cafeteria nor hung out with the popular kids or recited the faddish slang.  Instead, I hung out with my teachers during nutrition and lunch where I felt safe from students’ stares due to my weight and skin condition. 

I brought with me a book bag containing my yearbooks, the Faculty Memorial Award trophy given to me upon exiting junior high as well as a souvenir of my very first visit to Luther—at age 4 in 1962.  That’s when I received both oral polio vaccines in the form of a sugar cube developed by Dr. Sabin.

I felt joyful after the 45-minute interview.  Here were these young teens who exuded genuine interest in documenting my story. 

Mrs. Grogan and I didn’t have a chance to catch up at that moment, so we set up a lunch date the following week.

To prepare for it, I hunted through a couple of boxes in the garage labeled “Brian’s old stuff” comprised of schoolwork, report cards and yearbooks which I meticulously saved from my academic career.

While I had Mrs. Grogan for Social Science in the spring semester of school year 1972-1973, it was her Creative Writing class in the fall which sparked my creative spirit.

Her class allowed me to express myself with complete freedom.  I made collages, wrote and had my brother illustrate a Dr. Seuss-like story using the Grinch, did an interview with my cat (on audio tape) in front of the class, and wrote a short screenplay which later inspired me to make my first student film in the spring, “The Alumni Killings.”  For the climax, actual Burbank police officers drove their cruiser to the school arresting the villain (something they would not do today).

I couldn’t wait to share these memories with Mrs. Grogan as we settled into a booth at Tallyrand restaurant.

She was thrilled to look over the work I did in her class, paying attention to the comments she wrote.

I learned that Mrs. Grogan is a lifetime Burbanker, attending its schools and teaching its students not just at Luther, but Burbank High.  She has two children and four grandchildren and even knows some of my neighbors.

After a brisk 90-minute visit, we agreed to do it again, but sooner than another 53 years.  What a treat it was to reconnect decades later with one of my most influential teachers. 

I joked with her that she may be the last of my teachers “still on earth” as she put it.

Though she retired from the classroom in 2010 after over 40 years of teaching, she remains engaged, tutoring students of all ages.

It’s impressive how she has retained her energy and enthusiasm after all these years.  She continues to inspire me with her vitality for life.

The greatest gift a student can give a teacher is contacting them years later letting them know how well their life has turned out.  I, in turn, was able to see how well my teacher’s life has gone as well.

So, here’s to Mrs. Grogan and all the teachers who helped guide me especially during my challenging ninth-grade year when my father succumbed to lung cancer and a 14-year-old boy held himself together by immersing himself in schoolwork.

I have often said that the classroom is a sanctuary.  If so, Mrs. Grogan is a saint.

I reunited with my ninth-grade English teacher, Mrs. Grogan, after 53 years.